


Get Away With Murder

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Black Widow!Dean, FBI Agent!Eliot Ness, Future Dean Winchester/Cain, I stole David Rossi from Criminal Minds, Implied Death, Implied Incest, Love, M/M, Prior Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, Prior Dean Winchester/Crowley, Prior Dean Winchester/Jimmy Novak/Castiel, Prior Dean Winchester/Michael, Profiler!Eliot, Serial Killer!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: FBI Agent Eliot Ness is a passionate crime fighter. Dean Winchester made him fall in love with a serial killer.





	Get Away With Murder

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!!
> 
> So um
> 
> I really have no explanation beyond possibly going through a Criminal Minds binging session, listening to Jeffree Star's song "Get Away With Murder" and the fact that I will have to get a new cellphone because my charging port is FUCKED. 
> 
> ENJOY!!

FBI Agent Eliot Ness isn't sure how he ended up in the position he was in at that moment- that moment being "at the murderous hands of a male black widow.” 

Well he did. But he didn't expect to fall in love with Dean Winchester, which he knew probably violated several ethical rules.     
He did have a question though.    
"Why?" he asked, staring down the barrel of Dean’s gun.   
Dean smirked from behind the gun. "What can I say?" He said. "I like my lovers buried six feet under."

 

_ Three Years Ago _

“We’ve got another case,” David Rossi said, slamming a thick case file onto Eliot’s desk. 

“What’s the case?” Eliot sighed, looking up at the other agent. 

“A bit of an unusual one,” Dave admitted, sitting down from Eliot. “A male black widow.” 

Eliot arched a brow. “A male version of a black widow?” he repeated. 

Dave nodded. “We’ve identified him by name, but he uses a lot of aliases. We were able to track him down through DNA. His real name’s Dean Winchester. Born January 24, 1978 in Lawrence, Kansas. His mother died in an electrical fire in his baby brother’s nursery when he was four.” 

Eliot whistled softly. “That must’ve messed him up,” he said. 

“He didn’t speak for a year, not until his younger brother started learning how to talk,” Dave said. “John Winchester was then a single father in the Marine Corps, the boys were often under the supervision of a family friend, Robert Singer when John went overseas. Dean’s a bright young man, got into engineering at a young age. Ended up dropping out of college when he was twenty, though.” 

“Why?” Eliot frowned. “His grades were fantastic.” 

“No one knows, in all honesty,” Dave said. “He disappeared off the map for about four years, popping back up again when his brother, Samuel, graduated from Stanford. Their father died a short year later. Heart attack.” 

“Forty’s young to have a heart attack,” Eliot said. 

“It is. Dean and Sam moved in together, with Dean working at an auto shop.” 

Eliot pulled out a photo. “First victim?” 

Dave nodded. “His younger brother.” 

“Strange choice for a black widow, your own brother,” Eliot mused as he looked at the photo.

“There’s been speculation that there was an incest thing going on,” Dave said. “I suppose that would’ve been nurtured by the idea of someone being dependent on him.” 

“How many victims?” Eliot asked with a sigh. 

“Six, counting Sam.” Dave paused. “That we know of.” 

“Second victim?” 

“Second and third,” Dave said. “Twins. James and Castiel Novak. He was with them for two years before killing them. James was the head of a nonprofit, and Castiel worked as his CPA.” 

“Does he have a thing for siblings?” Eliot asked as he looked over the crime scene of the Novak twins. 

“Last evidence we’ve seen of that, the twins are,” Dave said. “Fourth victim is Michael Milton, a second lieutenant in the Army. He’s got three younger brothers but Dean didn’t woo any of them. He was with Michael for three years before killing him.” 

“What is he after?” Eliot wondered. 

“Who knows?” Dave admitted. “Most black widows are after money. Maybe he’s after sex? And when he’s done, he discards them?” 

“Maybe,” Eliot shrugged. “Or maybe he’s just psychotic.” 

“That’s our job,” Dave laughed. “Fifth victim was Benjamin Lafitte, executive chef and owner of a Cajun soulfood restaurant. His shortest time span was with him, a year.” 

“He must be physically fit,” Eliot mused, looking at Benjamin Lafitte’s photo. “Lafitte was an incredibly large man.” 

“Yeah, well that’s what a diet of gumbo and jambalaya will do to you,” David laughed. “Lafitte also worked as a deckhand for several years before opening up Benny’s Soul. We worked out that John Winchester must’ve trained his boys like Marines. He wouldn’t have had an easy time subduing his brother or Milton, either.” 

“Makes sense,” Eliot said. “Who’s our most recent vic?” 

“Fergus MacLeod,” Dave said. “A realtor for Sotheby’s. Dean’s spent the longest with him, a total of six years with a marriage. We just got word about MacLeod’s death yesterday, he’s been dead a week. His mother is beside herself. Says she wants to deal with the lad herself.” 

“Sounds like a mother,” Eliot said, looking over all the crime scene photos and pulling out a picture of Dean with MacLeod. He was a handsome young man. “What do we know about his aliases?” 

“They tend to be 80’s rock stars, the name he gave MacLeod was Angus Young,” Dave said in confusion. 

“He’s an 80’s kid alright,” Eliot chuckled, standing up and fastening his waistcoat. “Let’s get Garcia to put trackers on rock star names that aren’t actually the stars themselves and let’s nail this sonofabitch.” 

 

_ Two and A Half Years Ago _

“Hi, can you tell me how to get into DC without using the interstate?” 

Eliot looked up from his paper to find himself face to face with Dean Winchester. “Well, that depends, where in DC are you going?” he said casually. 

“The ‘Nam Memorial,” Dean said with a shrug. “My grandfather’s name is on there, he’s been MIA ever since. Promised my old man I’d get the name for him and take pictures. He’s getting Alzheimer’s see, and doesn’t want to forget that his dad never came home.” There was a slight Southern drawl to the way Dean spoke, from his Kansas roots if Eliot had to guess. And the lie was  _ almost  _ believable. If Eliot hadn’t known that Dean was a black widow of a different sort. He looked down and saw Dean was still wearing his wedding ring from he was with MacLeod. 

“Your wife couldn’t come?” Eliot asked. 

“What- Oh!” Dean gave a sheepish smile and looked down at his hand. “Husband, and um. . . he passed away last year. Heart attack during an auction.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eliot said hurriedly. “I’m Eliot.” 

“Dean,” Dean said, reaching over and shaking Eliot’s hand. “Dean Smith.” He sat down across from Eliot and flashed a charming smile. “So, Eliot, what is it that you do for a living?” 

“I’m an FBI agent,” Eliot said. “Specializing in white collar crime.” If Dean was going to lie, so was Eliot. It had been years since he worked white collar, since the Russo crime family was all in jail and they cleaned up. That was his last case before sliding over into serial killers, rapists, and child abductors.

Dean grinned. “Really? That’s awesome, man,” he said. “So, lots of RICO Act stuff?” 

Eliot nodded and laughed. “Yes, lots of dealing with the RICO Act,” he agreed. “I don’t mind it. What about you?” 

“Mechanic,” Dean said. “I work out by James Madison University. Lots of college kids who have these new fangled cars that are more computer than they are car.” 

Eliot laughed. “Yeah, I think we can all agree anything pre 2000 is better,” he said. 

“Oh, definitely,” Dean said. “I drive a ‘67 Chevy Impala. I keep her running smooth. Had to build her from the ground up after my brother died.” 

Eliot cocked his head to the side. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighed heavily. “My little brother, Sammy. He had borrowed the car for a date night with his fiancee, and some sicko lit the car on fire when they were in the backseat.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eliot soothed. Again, a very plausible lie coming from Dean. “Do you want me to show you the best way into DC? I’ve got to go in that way anyways, I’ve got a meeting with the DOJ.” 

“Sure,” Dean said with a broad smile. “That’d be great, thanks.” 

 

_ Two Years Ago _

“GOD, YES, ELIOT,” Dean cried out as Eliot fucked him hard and fast. 

Should Eliot remove himself from the case? Yes. Was either he or Dave going to do so (because of fucking course David Stephen Rossi figured out he was sleeping with a fucking serial killer, because it’s fucking David Stephen Rossi)? Absolutely not. This was the closest anyone’s got to Dean Winchester, and they were definitely going to use it to their advantage. 

However, Eliot wasn’t expecting the feelings to come so soon. 

He wasn’t expecting feelings to come up at all. 

No wonder Dean had taken at least six lives if he was able to make people fall in love with him with a well placed smile and a sultry wink. 

And the  _ ass was to die for.  _

Not that Eliot was a superficial man. Dean was intelligent, thoughtful as a lover. He enjoyed laughing and gorging himself on diner food. He loved science-fiction film and was forever tinkering with electronics to try to improve them. He helped Garcia fix her computer system more than once and when Balthazar’s niece Nichole flitted into the coffee shop they started frequenting one day, complaining about the charging port on her phone and carrying a giant textbook discussing the laws of evidence, Dean kindly helped her out and fixed the charging port and wouldn’t take any sort of payment. Nichole had nearly exhausted herself thanking Dean and insisted on buying him a cup of coffee before going off to curl up in a corner. He was generous and fantastic with children and- 

It was actually  _ stupidly  _ easy to fall in love with Dean Winchester. 

And that was dangerous, but love was dangerous. Eliot knew that, being the product of two divorces and with Dave on divorce number three. 

If Eliot was honest with himself, being in love with Dean and knowing how dangerous it was was a  _ turn on. _ Dean could turn on him at any time and Eliot would almost welcome it because it was insanely hot. And dangerous. 

“Whew!” Dean laughed as they snuggled in bed. “You were  _ primal  _ tonight.” 

Eliot smirked and kissed Dean deeply. “There’s something about you, baby,” he said. “Makes all those long hours with white collar worth it.” 

“Put the mobsters away, Eli,” Dean hummed against his lips. “I’ll be here when you come home. Always.” 

Eliot’s heart melted. “I love you,” He murmured. 

“I love you too.” Dean smiled. “Now sleep. You’ve got a long day tomorrow.” 

 

_ A Year and a Half Ago _

“Gideon doesn’t like what we’re doing,” Dave said, setting down a picture of Eliot and Dean kissing under a cherry blossom tree like teenagers. 

“Well, does Gideon have a better idea?” Eliot asked. “Or is he willing to come back into the field with us?” 

“I don’t know,” Dave sighed heavily. “I think the Bird Killer is still heavy on his mind.” 

“The Nelson’s Sparrow guy?” Eliot huffed. “That case is from the  _ seventies. _ He should be over it by now.” 

“I know, I worked that case with him,” Dave huffed. “But Gideon’s like a dog with a bone. I think that’s why he took up Strauss’ job after she passed.” 

“Glad we didn’t get that State Department guy. . . what’s his face,” Eliot grumbled. “I hate this, Dave.” 

“I know.” Dave leaned over and patted his hand. “But you’re one of the best. You live up to your namesake.” 

Eliot snorted. “Yeah, two failed marriages and an unsolved case that nearly drove me out included. Add in the womanizing and the alcoholism and I’m Eliot Ness reincarnated.” 

“That was a hard case,” Dave said. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for that. You were young.” 

“I had ten years of white collar under my belt,” Eliot protested. “It was an easy case.” 

“No, it wasn’t. It was a really unfair case for a rookie profiler,” Dave soothed. It was an old discussion. “And hey, I don’t think anyone likes the idea of dating a serial killer. But they’re not in your shoes, Eliot. And this is the best shot we’ve got at him.” 

“Yeah,” Eliot sighed, looking out the window of his office. “I know.” 

“Just. . . don’t wind up dead,” Dave said, getting up and patting Eliot’s face. “ _ Buona fortuna. _ ” 

The Italian way of saying ‘good luck’ chilled Eliot to the bone for some unknown reason. 

 

_ Present Day  _

“You know,” Dean said, casually spinning the barrel on the Colt Peacemaker he was holding, “I almost don’t want to kill you.” 

Eliot arched a brow. He was naked, only a thin robin’s egg blue sheet giving him any sort of dignity, and tied to his headboard with paracord. Dean was dressed in jeans and a Henley, sprawled over the chair. “And why is that?” 

“You interest me,” Dean shrugged. He flipped the barrel closed and pointed it at Eliot. “But I’ve got a reputation, you know?” 

“Absolutely,” Eliot said dryly. 

Dean walked over to Eliot. He crawled over top of him, straddling his hips and rocking down with a groan. “So, Agent Ness,” he purred. “Because I really do like you, almost love you, I’m going to do something I did for only one other person. Something that’s not in your little personnel file.” 

“Yeah?” Eliot asked, blinking as the cold metal of the gun pressed against his temple. “What’s that?” 

“I’m going to make a phone call to whomever you want,” Dean purred. “They’ll hear the gunshot and come running, but that way, you can either live or die. Or something else can happen, who knows? I’ll even let you talk for a moment.” Dean leaned in and kissed Eliot. As much as he didn’t want to, his body responded and he kissed Dean back with a moan. “Isn’t that generous of me?”

“Who was that other person you allowed to have a phone call?” Eliot asked softly. 

“Sammy,” Dean said. “I didn’t want my little brother to die alone, you know? He called a friend of his from school. Pretty sure they fucked a time or two.” He hummed, drawing the barrel away from Eliot’s head and bringing it to his own, licking the barrel. “Sammy almost made it, but somehow shrapnel made it to his heart and he died anyways.” 

“You didn’t do it for your husband?” Eliot asked. 

“No,” Dean laughed. The engagement ring Eliot got him flashed in the low light of the room. It was six months old, and Eliot had no doubt that unless David managed to apprehend him after this, he’d still be wearing it and claiming it was his “late fiance’s.” “I mean, Fergus was a great guy, and I did kind of love him. In my own way, since people like me  _ can’t  _ love.” He chuckled lowly. “But I didn’t  _ like  _ him enough to allow him that dignity. Besides, Rowena, my mother in law? Wouldn’t probably pick up the phone. She was most likely doing some kind of witchy orgy.” Snorting disdainfully, Dean kissed the tip of his gun and pressed it against Eliot’s temple, grabbing the older man’s phone off the nightstand. “Who do I call?” 

Eliot looked at Dean. “David Rossi.” 

Dean nodded and dialed Dave’s number. 

“ _ Eliot, what the fuck, it’s 2 AM- _ ” 

“Dave, listen to me,” Eliot said, staring into murderous emerald green eyes that were coldly smiling. “Get a SWAT team and do a five block perimeter around my apartment.” 

“ _ Eliot? _ ” 

**_BANG_ **

 

_ Five Months Later _

“Want another round?” Cain Murderson asked the handsome stranger in his bar. “On the house.” 

“Sure,” Dean Winchester said with a wink. “I’ll take a double whiskey, neat.” 

“You got it, handsome,” Cain said, pouring one. “What’s your name?” 

Dean smirked. “Elliot Ness. Two L’s and no relation to the Untouchable.” 

Cain smirked back. “Cain Murderson. And yes, my younger brother’s name is Abel,” he said, handing Dean his whiskey. “My parents had a strange sense of humor.” 

Dean laughed. “Not the first time I heard that. When do you get off?” 

“Last call’s at two, bar closes at three,” Cain said. “Want to come home with me?” 

“I’d love to, Cain,” Dean purred. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


End file.
